


they put a lot on us hardly knowin' one another

by notthebigspoon



Series: Amaryllis [15]
Category: Baseball RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-06
Updated: 2012-08-06
Packaged: 2017-11-11 14:39:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/479580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notthebigspoon/pseuds/notthebigspoon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hunter is a pretty self aware guy. And that's a damn good thing, because between Vogelsong and Victorino, all he's got is knowing that a lot of people thought he was kind of gay before he knew it. Also, Sergio Romo doesn't have a brain to mouth filter and Brandon Belt is not nearly as innocent as he looks.</p><p>Title taken from Deliverance by Bubba Sparxxx.</p>
            </blockquote>





	they put a lot on us hardly knowin' one another

Ryan Vogelsong: Where you at man? Grabbing lunch, you're welcome to come.

H. Pence: My room. I just got up. Getting around to go. I'll order room service or something.

Ryan Vogelsong: You sure?

H. Pence: Yeah. I'm a little sore, want to rest before the game.

Ryan Vogelsong: Sore? The game take that much out of you?

H. Pence: Um, yeah. Rough game. That's it.

Ryan: Vogelsong: Oh my god. You are coming downstairs right the fuck now and going to IHOP with me.

H. Pence: I'm fine, Vogey, really. I'll order a burger.

Ryan Vogelsong: Not giving you a choice. You come down here or we come after you.

H. Pence: Gimme five.

***

When Hunter reaches the lobby, he's greeted by three of his teammates. Vogelsong looks intensely proud of himself, Belt looks a little confused but mostly hungry and the second Romo sees him, he looks as if Christmas has come early. Hunter says nothing, just follows them to the cab while he chews on his lip. This way madness lies.

If anyone recognizes them at the restaurant, they don't say anything. Still, Hunter's not entirely comfortable with the corner booth. It's away from most of the other patrons, which mean they can't be heard, but they're in full display for anyone to see. He stares at his menu and orders a soda. Mindful of his epiphany in the shower last night, when the waitress comes by, he orders the Rooty Tooty, ignoring the looks and snickers. Hunter is Loki. Hunter does what he wants. 

Hunter is a nerd and he has made peace with that.

“So. You were up late.” Vogelsong says the minute the waitress leaves. It's not a question.

“I didn't work out as long as I should have the other night. I had to make up for it. The gym at the hotel isn't bad.”

“That's not why you were up late.”

Hunter eyes him. “I know you guys are close and all, but the degree to which you live in each other's pockets disturbs me. I haven't even been here a week and I already know who's screwing who and who has some sort of emotional trauma and runs away every time he gets a chance.”

“Timmy's not good at dealing with his problems. Admittedly, we coddle him. You've seen the guy, we can't help ourselves.” Ryan says, very matter of fact. Romo stops playing with the salt shakers long enough to give Hunter an earnest nod. Belt just keeps eating everybody's lemons. “You just kinda... came into the right side of it. Or the wrong side, depending on how you look at it. Some of the guys are already feeling sorry for you. Bum says you never stood a chance.”

“I just don't understand why it's important for you to know.”

“Because as your teammates, it is our right to know everything about you and use that to humiliate you.” Belt recites, suddenly sitting straight up in his seat. Vogelsong and Romo snicker. Belt looks embarrassed, rubbing his neck. “Um. They uh.. I kinda... I was a rookie with Brian Wilson obsessed with popping my cherry. Stop bitching about people being obsessed with your unorthodox sex life.”

“Did he do it?”

Hunter's okay with being a hypocrite. You can't throw out something like that and expect people not to ask. Belt glares and says nothing. Vogelsong and Romo are still in a fit of giggles when the waitress brings their food and Hunter has to remind her what goes where. He ignores the insanity around him and starts picking apart his pancakes.

They're halfway through their meals when Romo abruptly pushes his plate away. He looks a little guilty. “Look, we don't do it to be dicks dude. Honest. That's just kind of how things work around here. We torture each other. But we can restrain ourselves. Sometimes. I didn't even say anything about the rug burn on your knees! Wait, oh, _crap_. Sorry, I'm so sorry.”

“What my motor mouthed little friend here is trying to say is that we're gonna torture the everloving fuck out of you. But we're the only ones who get to.” Ryan grins, kicking Hunter under the table. “So, y'know, roll with it.”

Belt looks frustrated. “You're not saying anything about the rugburn?! That's not fair!”

“Belt, you had rugburn on your face. ON YOUR FACE.”

“On your... face?” Hunter blinks, considering the logistics of that. It takes him a minute to process and then he blushes bright red. He doesn't need that image. He doesn't need _any_ of these images. He doesn't want to know any more about who these guys are banging and how. He's got his own issues to sort out.

***

Victorino: How's San Francisco?

H. Pence: Fucking weird. Surreal. 

H. Pence: Hey, should I be talking to you? Fraternizing with the enemy?

Victorino: We can hate each other later. Fucking California.

H. Pence: Pretty much. Everyone on this team is crazy. How's LA? Banged anyone famous yet?

Victorino: Married dude.

H. Pence: That's not an answer.

Victorino: No. 

Victorino: Have YOU banged anyone famous?

H. Pence: It's San Francisco. Who is there?

Victorino: How would I know? Google it. Make a list.

H. Pence: And what? Sex my way through the bay area?

Victorino: Yeah. Take notes. Be scientific about it.

H. Pence: What is it with the world and its sudden interest in my sex life?

Victorino: Hey. You're in San Francisco.

H. Pence: Excellent deduction Sherlock. Point?

Victorino: One word, my friend: Castro.

H. Pence: You trying to say something?

Victorino: Kinsey scale.

H. Pence: I'm telling your wife you're trying to gay me up.

Victorino: Well, y'know, in LA you hear things about you Giant boys.

H. Pence: I think I'm gonna start with the hating you now.

***

When they return to the hotel and Hunter goes back to his room, Angel and Gregor are nowhere in sight. They'd been asleep still when he left and he figures they're probably off wreaking havoc with Melky. Not that it's a bad thing. This is going kinda fast and a little distance isn't going to kill him. The time alone before the game will be nice.

He sprawls onto the bed with a Mountain Dew from the vending machine, channel surfing until he finds cartoons. Adventure Time. Awesome. He watches Finn, on fire and screaming, dive into the ocean and snickers, thinking of all the people he'd like to do that to. Victorino's on the list now. Giant on Dodger violence is acceptable and he can totally whip Victorino's ass. Guy's a fucking midget.

His phone buzzes and he picks it up, eyeing the message from Romo asking him how his knees are and he huffs, throwing it aside. It's not that he minds it, exactly. The ribbing is to be expected and Romo's a nice guy really. It's just that Hunter's world view is suddenly very skewed and it's making him paranoid. He never had a problem with gay guys. He knew some on the Astros, knew some on the Phillies. Just never this many in one spot.

Happy accident, maybe?

Hunter is not gay. He is aware of that. He knows he still likes women. There had been a chick outside the hotel who was wearing practically nothing when he was walking inside and it had been all he could do not to drool and float after her like Pepe le Pew. But there'd been some hot guys too, something he hadn't ever paid attention to before. Bisexual?

Maybe he's spending too much time trying to label this but he wants a name for it. Equal opportunity? Yeah, that sounds good.

When it's time to go to the park, he rolls out of bed and grabs his stuff, meeting the rest of the team down in the lobby. He keeps to himself on the trip to the stadium and while he's getting dressed. On the field for the warmup, he finds himself humming and bouncing on his heels. He's always thought he was a pretty self aware guy and he's kind of proud of sorting this out without having a total panic attack.

The facts are these: In under a week he has acquired some of the best friends he's ever had. He has become emotionally invested in a teammate's welfare. He has earned a teammate's ire by labeling him as squirrelly. He has decided an ex-teammate is an arch enemy. (Sherlock and Mycroft style, not Sherlock and Moriarty style.) He's had two nights of really hot sex with two really hot guys that may or may not want a relationship with him.

Life doesn't suck.


End file.
